Tiny Raven

The Great Pet Debate continued all the way back to the apartment.

And then some.

I was sitting on the floor by the couch, sorting through a toolbox full of mismatched tools. Looking for the right cross-head screwdriver to replace Sans’ doorknob.

“I think we’ve narrowed it down,” I said, leaning back and counting off the rules on my fingers. “As long as the pet makes no mess, no noise, requires zero care, and is cheap or free to get, I’m fine with it.”

Sans snorted from his place on the couch. “That all?”

I considered the question. Trying to think of any loopholes in the rules that would let him bring home something terrible.

The image of a taxidermy eyesore sitting in the living room came to mind.

Like my life was some sort of dramedy on prime time TV.

“I can’t have once been alive. No dead things in the apartment. Unless we’re eating them.”

I pulled a screwdriver out of the box, comparing it to the screws at my side. Close, but I thought I had something closer. I set the screwdriver aside and kept looking.

“Except, y’know, you,” I teased.

“I resemble that remark,” Sans quipped back. I grinned, adding the interaction to my ‘success’ pile. Not quite a “fuck yeah” success, since he didn’t laugh, but it was close enough.

Like horseshoes and grenades, jokes got points based on proximity.

“Whatever this magical no-work pet is? I get to name it,” I added. I pulled out another screwdriver and tested the tip in the screw. Perfect fit. “Here’s the right screwdriver for the job. I’ll leave it on the coffee table.”

I glanced at my phone before standing, checking the time. Ninety more minutes before I needed to leave to get to my job.

I picked up the toolbox and took it out to the balcony storage, debating how to use the rest of my free time.

My first thought was taking care of some pending research on how to be a good “owner.” Draining and exhausting research that it left me feeling like shit, but important.

I slumped on the couch at Sans’ feet, planning on pulling out my laptop, when I finally noticed the book in his hands.

“Hey! That’s my old copy of Hitchhiker’s Guide,” I said, feeling the grin light up my face. “That’s one of my favorite trilogies! I’m pretty sure there’s five books total? Maybe six, but the last one was written by someone else.”

Sans looked at me over the top of the paperback, brow raised in curiosity.

“That’s double a usual trilogy.”

“Yep!” I agreed with a shrug. “How are you liking it?”

The monster shrugged as he turned his attention back to the story.

“S’alright.”

I realized I wouldn’t be getting much more out of him.

I went back to my previous task of figuring out what to spend my time on.

I got up to get the notepad I had been using to write his “hall pass” on.

“I don’t remember if I’ve told you,” I said as I made my way to the kitchen table. “Any books in the apartment are free to read.”

Sans relaxed and my chest tightened at the implications that subtle movement meant.

Reading had been my only escape from real life as a kid. It was … sacred. Something I would never take from someone else. The very idea was terrifying.

Then again, I shouldn’t be surprised that my fellow humans didn’t think the same.

I pushed the thought from my mind, turning my attention to the task of copying addresses from my phone to the list. I had managed to memorize nearly all of them with daily repetition.

Except for Solar’s, which kept giving me trouble. For some reason I wanted to write it as 2460 instead of 2604.

Annoyingly I did it again, even as I was thinking about it.

I spent my remaining time in a sort of waiting time fugue state. Chipping away at my “to do” list and constantly checking my phone.

I showered, since I hadn’t this morning, which led me to realize I was nearly out of long sleeved shirts. So I sorted laundry and started a load. Then I saw the dishes were piling up in the kitchen, so I washed some of those.

As it got closer and closer to the time I needed to leave an anxious knot began to grow in my stomach.

I didn’t want to deal with Jason, but it was almost guaranteed that he’d be on the same shift as me. The best I could hope for was that he’d leave me alone.

I wasn’t going to start anything with him.

I couldn’t sit still, fidgeting and pacing the apartment, looking for something to do.

Eventually I sighed, giving up on waiting and leaving early.

I hoped tonight would be better.

---

I checked the buttons on my polo again before I entered the warehouse.

I knew my manager’s response the night before had been sexist at best, but I wanted to be covered.

Just in case.

I resisted the urge to button the top of my work polo. The only thing that would accomplish would be strangling me.

I knew I should escalate the situation to HR, but I didn’t know how to contact them. I highly doubted they would do anything, anyway. “Human Resources” protected the company first, then the workers. Then contract workers like me.

I knew where I stood. I was a temp. Easy to fire.

Easy to replace.

Better to let the issue die as it was.

I clocked in, grabbed a scanner, and set off in search of the first item.

Thoughtless monotony, exactly what I wanted.

It was a surprise when I was paged only an hour into my shift. My internal debate between finding the next item first or not was decided for me when my scanner locked me out.

Which … was not a good sign.

Fortunately my manager wasn’t the woman from last night, but instead was Tony. A good guy who was too old for most of this shit, but needed to do something to pay rent. He waved me into his office, gesturing for me to close the door behind me.

“Please, sit,” he said, his voice low and tired.

I did as told, sitting on the edge of the seat.

Important Conversation Time With Boss was rarely a good thing.

Tony slumped in his chair on the other side of the cheap desk, heaving a heavy sigh.

I realized what was happening.

It wasn’t the first time I’d been fired, after all.

“Whose kid is he?” I asked before Tony could say a word.

He grimaced, looking away from me.

Unwilling to meet my eyes.

“I fought for you,” Tony said heavily, leaving my question unanswered. “Spent most of the damn day trying to get the higher ups to listen to reason. You’re one of our best workers.”

I had nothing to say to that, so I simply nodded an acknowledgement of the hollow praise.

“Jason is the son of the district manager,” he said, glaring at his hands.

I winced, inwardly cursing myself even though I didn’t think I’d actually done anything wrong.

“He went crying to mommy and … I don’t know what he told her, but it wasn’t good.”

Honestly, I assumed he told her the truth. If he left out his aggressive actions, the confrontation could be summed up fairly neatly: “I asked her out to dinner and she pulled a knife on me like a psycho.”

I didn’t say anything to defend myself.

“Why didn’t you report the incident last night when it happened?” Tony asked, his voice strained with emotion.

I tensed at the question, frowning. “I did. Immediately. Told … what’s-her-name and everything.” I desperately grasped for the woman’s name. Melissa? Megan? Mothra? (She did sort of act like a rampaging behemoth sometimes … ) I swallowed back the sour taste at the back of my throat. “She told me that I shouldn’t have been dressed so ‘provocatively’.” I finger quoted the word with disgust. “I didn’t know she hadn’t bothered to record my complaint.”

Tony’s expression filtered through the stages of grief all at once and out of order. Eventually he landed somewhere on angry acceptance.

He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “Fucking again, Melinda?” before turning his attention back to me.

“I can’t save your job, but could you tell me what Jason did to provoke you? Did you really pull a weapon on him?”

“Yep,” I said, words clipped as I thought about the incident. “He threatened me. Had me pinned against a wall and wasn’t letting me go when I asked him to. It wasn’t a misunderstanding, either,” I added as Tony raised an eyebrow. “I specifically told him to let me go. Used the exact words and everything.”

“And you were unable to get help from the floor managers?”

“Didn’t have a walkie or a way to signal for help,” I said. I sighed, looking at my hands. “I shouldn’t have pulled my box cutter on him, but I felt trapped. I didn’t have many other options outside of letting him assault me.”

Tony sighed again but made note of what I said. I hoped he would add it to some sort of file on Jason.

Maybe it would help the next girl he set his sight on.

“If you were my daughter I’d tell you t’hell with it. You made the right choice,” Tony said softly, and I jerked in surprise.

Of all the things I’d expected in this meeting, understanding hadn’t been one.

I didn’t know what to say.

“Doesn’t mean I can get your job back,” he said, defensive and clearly unhappy about it. “And being right doesn’t pay anything. But I don’t fault you for what happened, and if it were up to me it’d be Jason sitting across from me, not you.”

“Thank you,” I said softly, truly at a loss for words. It was … honestly one of the nicest things a manager had ever said to me.

Usually they were yelling at me for screwing up.

I knew, intellectually, I hadn’t done anything wrong. This termination was bullshit and probably illegal. I had a perfect record – Never late, never missed a shift without a call at least two hours before. I had one of the best pull rates on the night shift, and I didn’t spend my breaks getting high.

Aside from one day off a week I only took a single day off a year, on Halloween. It wasn’t even a major holiday.

Part of me was furious. I was being fired for defending myself against an asshole who shoved me against a wall to try to coerce me – force me – into dating him.

I was being punished when I was in the right, and it made no fucking sense.

But I didn’t “play well” with others.

It had only been a matter of time before I screwed up somehow.

“I’m sure you’ve got everything you need, but … if you need a reference, I’d gladly give you a good one.” Tony slid a business card over to me across the cheap laminate of the desk. He’d crossed out the work number and scrawled a new one above it.

I took the card, contemplating the significance that had.

“Thank you.”

I slipped it into my pocket.

It was … nice having someone on my side.

Even if he couldn’t do much to help me.

Bittersweet.

I sighed, overwhelmed with sudden bone-deep exhaustion. I didn’t have the energy to fight this battle. Metaphorical or otherwise.

I stood up and took off my badge, placing it on the desk between us. “I can stop by sometime tomorrow to return my spare polo and get my last check. Is there a good time to do that?”

“Any time after noon should be fine,” Tony said after a moment’s thought. He held up a hand as I started untucking my polo. “You can drop that one off then, too. It isn’t too urgent.”

I awkwardly crossed my arms, uncertain what to do with my hands. The shirt I had on under the polo was thin, so I was grateful to leave the thicker shirt on anyway.

“I’ll come by around noon, then. Thanks.”

I turned and left the small office, leaving the door open some.

I left the building without a word.

---

Throughout my commute home I expected anger to flare in my chest. I offered it kindling and fuel, thinking about the injustice of it all, the stupid office politics.

Of why this had to happen today, when I’d already missed my two other jobs. A day’s worth of wages, gone.

But it didn’t.

I stared blindly at the ads, swaying with the movement of the bus, thinking of other night jobs I could do.

I had a cushion of savings. Not three months worth, but enough. I wasn’t too concerned about the loss of income.

In all likelihood I’d have a replacement soon.

I was furious over the firing. Spiteful passion in my soul sparked and raged.

But I couldn’t feel it.

It flickered, light without heat.

I was exhausted.

Disappointed.

Frustrated.

But all I felt was numb.

What was one more former job on a ten page resume?

If anything, it was a surprise I’d held onto the job as long as I had.

Acceptance.

Grudging, resentful, and angry, but acceptance nonetheless.

I stood in front of my door, fist up and ready to knock when I remembered there was no need.

I had given Sans a key. He didn’t have my keys anymore, because he had his own.

I dug my keys out of my bag and unlocked my apartment, glancing around the entryway.

The light of the setting sun cast long shadows in the living room. The only lights were from the hallway.

It was quiet.

It was … empty.

I ignored the painful twinge in my chest. Ignored the pang of loneliness and isolation. It was stupid to get emotional about. Until a couple of weeks ago, this is what I came home to.

This was more than I came home to. I never left the lights on for myself.

It wasn’t worth getting upset over.

Slowly, deliberately, I untied my shoes, kicking them off as I headed into the kitchen for some food.

It wasn’t like Sans was avoiding me on purpose. He had no idea I’d be home early. I hadn’t known I’d be home early. In the less-than-a-month he’d known me I had never come home early.

It wasn’t a thing that happened.

He had no idea that I was usually holding on by my fingertips, one step away from unemployment at any given moment.

I made myself dinner, heating up what looked like the last of Abby’s leftovers. I would need to wash the containers to return.

I made a note that I would have to make more food tomorrow. Lasagna, probably. After Abby’s cooking I hoped Sans would be able to stomach mine.

I frowned at the thought of the skeleton monster.

I shook my head, clearing my thoughts with a huff.

I wouldn’t be good company right now anyway. What would I say?

“Hey, I got fired for bullshit, but it’s not that much of a surprise because this always happens and I … kinda fail like this constantly! Sorry you’re stuck with such a useless sack of shit!”

I sighed again, taking my dinner over to the couch and deciding I was done thinking for the night.

I shifted into autopilot as I ate, letting my mind go blank. Relying on muscle memory and habit to eat and clean up. I stumbled to my bedroom, calling out my routine salutation to Sans halfway down the hallway.

I pulled off my work polo, then flopped into bed. It was too much work to change out of the rest of my clothes.

It was still early, the sky still light although the sun had set. I could get something done.

I could read more about the laws regarding Monster Ownership, figure out ways to subvert them.

I had slept in.

I had only worked an hour of one job.

I closed my eyes, telling myself it would just be for a moment.

I don’t remember dreaming.

---

I was surprised to see Sans on the couch when I stumbled from the shower. I gave him a bleary wave as I started a pot of coffee for myself.

I was glad I’d gotten extra sleep last night, even if the circumstances sucked,

Today was going to be a long day.

“Why’re you up?” I slurred at the skeleton as I popped two slices of bread into the toaster.

Sans looked at me, brow raised.

Hadn’t I … ?

I hadn’t been explicit enough.

Dammit.

“You’re on the lease now,” I said. “You don’t need to come with me to work. Congratulations, it’s your day off. For as long as you want.”

His face flashed through expressions so quickly I couldn’t read most of them.

What I did see were confusion, suspicion, anger, fear … hope?

I looked away when the toaster popped, feeling like I’d been staring.

In my defense: His face was fascinating to watch.

“I told you I was dragging you around because you weren’t on the lease. Now you are,” I said with a shrug as I buttered my breakfast. “There’s no barrier to you staying here all day. It’s your home as much as mine.”

I took a bite of the toast, pointedly ignoring the crumb pile on the counter. That was Future Terra’s problem. She could clean it.

“We’ve already discussed blood rituals, cults, pets … I’m pretty sure we’re good as far as I’m concerned.”

I tried not to be put off by how Sans was staring at me, watching me like I was playing a prank on him. I turned away, pouring myself a cup of coffee.

“I want you to be as free as possible. I don’t want to be a jailer or warden. I want you to do whatever you want to do.”

I sat on the floor by the coffee table, across from where Sans was reclining. He was still staring at me, sockets wide with disbelief. I took a sip of my coffee, grimacing at the taste. I’d never grown to like my coffee black, but I needed all the caffeine I could get.

“If you get bored staying home all the time … ” I stalled, biting my lip as I considered how to say what I wanted to. It felt like a topic that should be addressed with care.

I wasn’t very good at that.

“If you want to look into getting a job or finding something to do out of the house? I’ll help you figure that out.” I kept my eyes on my coffee mug, hoping he didn’t misunderstand. Hoping it didn’t sound like I was telling him to get a job.

I worked at least three jobs. They let me survive and maintain a small cushion.

I chose that for myself. I had made the choices that had led me here. I had chosen to bring Sans into my meager existence, coincidence or not.

I wasn’t going to force him to work.

I refused to use him for my gain.

“I won’t force you. You don’t have to,” I emphasized as I looked up at him. “But if you want to … just let me know.”

Sans stared at me until I broke the gaze, self conscious and uncomfortable.

I flinched when he got up off the couch, repressing the urge to apologize.

“Thanks,” he said as he walked by me. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

And then he was down the hall.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding when I heard his door latch click.

I was halfway out the door when I realized I hadn’t told Sans about the change of plans for tonight.

I glanced at my phone before rushing back into the apartment to write a quick note.

     Won’t be back until late.

     I’ll try not to wake you.

     No promises.

          – T

I left it with the hall pass on the counter. Hopefully Sans would see them both.

A quick double, triple check – phone, wallet, keys, shirts – and I ran out of the apartment.

I wanted to be early for my factory job to smooth things over with my foreman.

---

My foreman wasn’t happy with my absence the day before. He gave me a lecture about reliability and spent my entire shift glaring at me.

I did my best to ignore him and not let it get to me.

When I clocked out he grudgingly spat, “Good work today. Keep it up.”

I stretched as I left the building, deciding what to do next. My options were blowing off the warehouse for another day or dealing with it now. The site was out of my way and would be a hassle to get to.

But I didn’t want to carry the polos in my bag longer than necessary.

And I wanted my money.

The manager on duty was ready for me, and gave me my last paycheck without issue. Then he had security escort me out.

Guess Jason’s story had spread around, and I was considered a threat.

I am terrifying. All five feet and a hundred pounds of me.

I put the check in my wallet and headed to Solar’s where I ate in a rush. I was already running a little behind. I left with an apology to Grillby and a decent (although not great tip).

Then I sprinted to The Amber Lounge, getting there five minutes late.

The guy behind the bar laughed at my apology, promising me he wouldn’t tell. I appreciated it.

I worked at the bar occasionally when they had live shows.

The tips were excellent. People were happy, and happy people tipped well. It made for a nice atmosphere. Unfortunately I tended to either not care for or outright hate the music.

More than that I abhorred trying to shout over the music. It was nearly impossible, and my voice would be shot for days.

And I’d be deaf.

But … the tips would more than make up for missing … all my jobs yesterday.

My actual job was manning the coat check, but that came with a fair amount of downtime until after the show. So I offered to help the bar, passing along cocktail orders and opening bottles. Dispensing beer and water. Simple tasks that didn’t take a lot of knowledge.

I was pleasantly surprised to find out that the music was good. Enough that I noted the band’s name into my phone to look up later. I bounced along to the music as I worked, enjoying myself more than I thought I could.

Last call came an hour before the concert was over, and I helped clean up. Taking it upon myself to deal with the mundane, nonspecialized tasks so the bar staff wouldn’t have to. Sweeping, mopping, wiping down countertops, whatever I could find to help out.

I was handling the last coat check customer when one of the bartenders came over.

“Thanks for all your help,” she said as the guy walked away with his leather biker jacket. “Pretty sure helping clean up isn’t part of your contract. At least, it usually isn’t … Unless the boss has been contracting assholes.”

I shrugged as I cleaned up what little remained in the coat check area.

“Both, probably,” I said.

She was right that it wasn’t part of my job to help serve customers or to close out the bar. My only job was to handle the coat check.

But I wanted to help. I didn’t like sitting back and doing nothing while other people worked. It didn’t sit right with me.

And I hoped I might get a little more money for helping out, too. Although that wasn’t why I did.

It was the bartender who greeted me that suggested we pool our tips, and I readily agreed. I ended up taking home a little more than I would have otherwise.

I stayed with the bar staff until they locked up, planning my route home. It was late, after three in the morning. I was uneasy about walking home with my tips in my bag and in single-digit weather.

I shivered at the prospect.

The woman who had thanked me for helping offered me a ride home.

I didn’t want to accept.

I didn’t like owing people things. Especially when I wasn’t sure if I would see them again or not. I was wary of her holding something over me.

A small thing, sure, but it still had weight.

But I wasn’t stupid enough to walk home at three in the goddamn morning with nearly half a grand in my back pocket.

She dropped me off with a concerned expression, and I knew she was evaluating my walk home. Likely realizing how many sketchy blocks I would have traveled down.

Including the somewhat-sketchy block I lived on.

I got out of the car before she could throw sympathy at me, thanking her for the ride and jogging into the building.

As soon as I was inside I heard the car accelerate away.

I trudged up the stairs, each step draining away what little energy I still had.

Like the coffee had evaporated straight out of my system.

I don’t remember getting to my floor. Or unlocking my door or getting into bed.

---

When I woke up it was late for me, but still early by normal-human time.

Especially considering it was Sunday.

I was trying to find a replacement night job. Everywhere I’d called only had openings for a regular graveyard shift. Few wanted to take on a contract worker, either.

I lay back on my bed after another failed phone call, pondering the possibility of being in two places at once.

Sans was magic. Maybe he could duplicate me or something.

Drag an Alternate Universe version of me here. One that has her shit together and works a normal, 9-5, Monday to Friday job. Like a functional human.

… Hah. As if that could happen.

A knock at my bedroom door startled me awake, and I blinked blearily at it.

“One sec,” I said, loud enough that Sans could hear me, and I stumbled out of bed. My body was still hazy from sleep and I lurched across the room like I’d forgotten how to walk.

It was a passable imitation of a zombie.

I opened the door, expecting to see Sans.

Definitely not expecting Xander and James.

James quickly appraised me, looking me up and down.

“You look like shit,” he said after taking in my sleepless glory.

“James,” Xander warned in a stern tone.

The effect of which was ruined by me mumbling “You’re shit” and mussing the kid’s hair in an awkward pat.

I turned to Xander, had still on Jamie’s head. I stared at my brother-in-law, sleepily trying to figure out what the pair were doing in my doorway.

They were here to … help me with something?

Because I needed something moved in their …

“Truck. Thrift store. Fuck.” I glanced down at myself, still in my clothes from last night and not at all ready to move furniture. I probably smelled like the bar. “I completely forgot. Gimme … ten? Ten, and I’ll be ready to go.”

James shrugged, pulling his phone from his pocket and going to the living room. Xander looked at me with concern.

“You okay to go out, Tess? James wasn’t lying when he said you don’t look great.”

“I’m fine,” I said, dismissing his concern with a wave of my hand. “Just tired. Had a late night.”

Xander’s eyes widened in alarm as he glanced at the living room then back at me. He furrowed his brow, getting ready to lecture.

I rolled my eyes.

“I had a shift at Amber Lounge,” I said. “Concert. I was working coat check.”

He didn’t quite relax, but the tension shifted. Concern about my night job shifting to concern about my health.

“You sure you’re okay? James and I can deal with it on our own.”

“I’m fine,” I repeated with a shake of my head. “I have a couple things that I need to take care of and then we can go.”

Xander nodded, taking a step back into the hallway.

“Take your time,” he said as he turned toward the living room. “We’re not in a rush.”

I nodded and closed my door behind him, sighing as I reprioritized my to-do list for the day.

It took almost another hour to find a job to fill my empty slot. It had been a long time since my last job shuffle. A lot of my connections weren’t available anymore.

Some places don’t care when their janitorial staff come in. Ss long as the place is clean the next morning, they’re happy.

Lucky for me.

Xander and James were watching something when I finally made my way out into the kitchen. Or, Xander was watching something. James was on his phone, only kind of paying attention to the TV.

I pulled out the notepad and started writing down addresses, careful to double check them against my phone.

“Whatcha doing?” James asked.

He was behind me, looking at the paper over my shoulder. I jerked away from him, surprised, and he took a step back. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I said as I grit my teeth and told myself to breathe. “It’s for Sans. It lets him go where he wants without me being around.”

“Is he gonna help us with the dresser?”

“We can ask, but I don’t know.” I said with a shrug. “I bought it on impulse, so it’s my thing to deal with. Besides, there’s not enough room in the truck for all four of us.”

“He could help us get it up the stairs.”

It was almost like my nephew wanted to do as little work as possible.

I sighed, but agreed that things might go smoother if Sans helped.

“I’ll ask. But I’m not going to force him.”

Sans answered my knock quickly, which I hoped meant I hadn’t woken him.

“Xander and James – if you remember them – are here to help me bring that ugly dresser home. Would you help us get it up the stairs?”

“Sure.”

I pulled out my phone to hand him along with the hall pass.

“I’ll call from Xander’s phone once we’re back. Shouldn’t take longer than an hour.”

Sans nodded, opening the door fully to take the phone.

“Sounds good,” he said.

“Great!” I said with a smile. “It’ll be a lot easier with your help.”

I turned and marched into the living room, arms in the air. “Let’s go! Wardrobe, Get!”

---

It was a nice day.

Jamie teased me mercilessly about the dresser, calling it a Pretty Princess Nightmare. He also offered to help me paint it, if only to protect the world from its gaudy horror.

Sans helped us get it up the three flights of stairs.

He was surprisingly strong for someone who had no muscle. With his help the dresser felt like it was half its weight.

We put the dresser on the balcony so I could paint it.

Which is when I realized I had forgotten to buy paint at the hardware store.

“Hey, Sans, next time we’re out we should stop at the store, get some paint,” I told the skeleton monster. “You can pick it out and everything.”

I wondered if I should add the store to his list, give him a chance to go look at paint swatches or something.

I would ask him later, once my family was gone.

It was nice having them here.

Xander and Jamie stayed for dinner. Xander ordered pizza, and we all ate until we were stuffed.

Xander implied that James had a girlfriend, but my nephew wouldn’t divulge anything about her.

“We’re just friends,” he said. “It’s not like that.”

I shrugged, “Well, if you do find someone, let me know. I’d love to meet them.”

They left after eating, leaving the remaining pizza with me. Which I was grateful for.

I went to bed early, calling out a goodnight to Sans. He had disappeared sometime during dinner. I was worried he felt uncomfortable around my family.

I hoped he wasn’t.

I changed into my pajamas, and lay in bed staring at the ceiling.

I was exhausted.

I couldn’t fall asleep.

I felt … Empty.

Numb.

---